


I love you. Remember. They cannot take it

by yassiwrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, I'm warning for Major Character Death but it's not actually depicted, M/M, Tumblr Fic, V for Vendetta AU, but it's nothing major so dont worry, just understood, kind of, there is a small bit of sciles in there, this is a ficlet really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 07:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1597130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yassiwrites/pseuds/yassiwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evey, locked away at a government detention center, finds a letter in the crack of one of her cell’s walls. In the letter, Stiles Stilinski writes of his love for Derek Hale, of the war, the party that rose because of it and the persecution both of them suffered when different became dangerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I love you. Remember. They cannot take it

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thanks Bri (tumblr user ruffalo-my-buffalo) for proofreading the fic, and Nic (starry-eyed-boy) for giving me your honest opinion on it and helping me feel confident enough to actually post it. 
> 
> Oh, and look, there's a picspam that goes with it: http://apackofhales.tumblr.com/post/67170131368/sterek-vforvendetta-au-evey-locked-away-at-a

  
The captor throws Evey back in her cell, and she doesn’t even stand up. She’s so close to giving up. So, so close.  
  
She rests her naked head on the smooth stone floor and is about to close her eyes when she sees something. It’s a piece of paper stuck in one of the holes in the wall. Evey gets closer and takes the piece of paper out cautiously.   
  
Squeezed on the small paper is a letter.

 

  
_Hello, stranger._   
  
_If you are reading this right now, it’s because you’re where I once was, and for that, I am sorry. My name is Stiles Stilinski –well, not exactly, but that’s what I’m called- and I write to you today because my mother once told me that it’s impossible to live without hope. It may be that my mother is wrong, but I’ve found in life that hope never comes without good memories in which to base it. This is the reason why I’m here to share my own experiences. Not only so you can keep it and so that they give you the hope you need, but also for me to know that my resistance wasn’t in vain. I am not sure I’ll live much longer, but I hope that through this letter my memories may last years longer than me._

_I was thirteen when I fell in love for the first time. His name was Scott and he was my best friend. We kissed for the first time on a beautiful Sunday, the first of many. Scott was funny and kind, and we were never seen without the other by our side. But soon, it was over. For him, those kisses and whispered secrets were a phase. For me, it was discovering who I really was._

_I kissed other boys after Scott, but I never wanted anything more than a distraction. Until him; until Derek. I met Derek when I was nineteen, when I moved to LA and started working on the campus’ coffee shop. He’d come in everyday and place an order for the most complicated cup of coffee I’d ever heard of. He was a Literature major and the most infuriating person I’ve ever met, and I fell for him during the first week. He’d make me laugh without meaning to, and I’d become a love-struck idiot around him. It was perfect. It took a while, but many, many kisses later, we moved in together. I made him his ridiculously complicated coffee every morning, and he’d read me his favorite books before we went to bed. We were happy and in love and had no worries. It lasted two years. Nothing that good could’ve lasted, though. In the third year, the war came. The illness and panic spread around so quickly. We didn’t have enough for coffee every morning anymore, and, for many nights, the stories in the books failed to lure us to sleep. A party promising answers rose, and the blame fell on those who were different. First they came for those who prayed differently, or not at all. Then those who came from afar, or whose skin wasn’t the right color. We watched in a fearful silence, Derek’s arms around me; even that failed to make me feel safe. We knew what was coming next, we’d seen it before._

_It was on a rainy Monday that I saw Derek for the last time. He gave me the softest kiss before he left, and despite all the pain, the love shone brighter than ever in his eyes. That night I cried like never before, deeply aware of the weight of that loss. It took them three weeks to come for me. Three weeks of merely existing, not truly living. Three weeks of listless survival, of grey skies and black moods. When they finally came, I was almost grateful._

_They took me to a camp far away, and then to the complex. The one you’re in now, where you’ve found this letter. I thought that maybe I’d find Derek here. That maybe I’d have one more chance to look at him, to hold him close. Maybe one day I will. I don’t know what they’re doing to us here, only that some leave their cells never to return. We’re wasting away in front of everyone, and no one cares. They think they can reduce us to nothing, but I won’t let them. I refuse to. I had two years of coffee and books, of quiet nights and lazy mornings, and there’s nothing they can do to take that away from me._

_So I hope, dear stranger, if you’re reading this and I’m already gone, that your luck will be better than mine, and that my memories can be the ones to give you hope to go on living._

 

_With love, even if I never met you, Stiles._

 

  
Evey barely has time to finish reading the letter before she hears steps coming for her. She hides the paper in the wall again and, when she’s taken to her day-to-day torturing and questioning routine, she isn’t quite as ready to give up. Evey now knows, through the eyes of a stranger, what happiness is really like, and she's determined to see it for herself one day.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic here (or on tumblr, or for this pairing), so please, be nice.
> 
> Also, the title came from Lauren Oliver's Delirium, which I recommend.


End file.
